


Where the Heart Is

by seekingsquake



Category: Naruto
Genre: Discord: Umino Hours, M/M, Not Beta Read, Returning Home, Reunions, Umino Hours Winter Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28921068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingsquake/pseuds/seekingsquake
Summary: “Want a sip?” Genma had asked, and Iruka had nodded.After that, things spiralled so quickly that Iruka doesn’t know how anything happened between that night and moving in together.A whirlwind romance!Gai had exclaimed as he helped Genma bring up a couch and move the bookshelves around.Now, Iruka only drinks tea when Genma makes it for him. He has his own rituals, and no matter how much Iruka tries to copy the steps, it never tastes the same.It’s been three months—one month where Genma has been gone expectedly, and two where he’s just been... missing.The day Genma comes home, Iruka breathes again.
Relationships: Shiranui Genma/Umino Iruka
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24
Collections: The Umino Hours Winter Bingo 2020





	Where the Heart Is

At the break of dawn, Iruka is in the kitchen. Pale grey light seeps across the tile floor from the living room window, and the songbirds are drowned out by the pattering of rain on the glass. His hands are weary, and his eyes are dry; he hasn’t blinked in a long time, and his tea has cooled even as he held onto his mug, palms cupped around it and fingers laced. 

When he was a child, Iruka’s mother was ritualistic in making tea for him. Water at a specific temperature, poured into a particular mug, stirred with the same spoon every morning. After she died and Iruka grew up, he switched to coffee because he could never make tea when he brewed it taste the same as she used to. Something was always wrong.

Shiranui Genma doesn’t like coffee. Iruka learned this on an autumn afternoon three years ago, when they had stumbled into a late-night cafe after an evening of getting too drunk at the bar after a particularly trying shift at the mission desk. Iruka had ordered a dark roast mocha thing with whip and sprinkles, but Genma had ordered a green tea. When their drinks arrived to them where they sat at a back table, the smell had taken Iruka back to his childhood kitchen. Because he was completely smashed, he almost started to cry.

“Want a sip?” Genma had asked, and Iruka had nodded.

After that, things spiralled so quickly that Iruka doesn’t know how anything happened between that night and moving in together.  _ A whirlwind romance!  _ Gai had exclaimed as he helped Genma bring up a couch and move the bookshelves around. 

Now, Iruka only drinks tea when Genma makes it for him. He has his own rituals, and no matter how much Iruka tries to copy the steps, it never tastes the same.

It’s been three months—one month where Genma has been gone expectedly, and two where he’s just been... missing.

Dating a shinobi is risky, and dating a jonin even more so, and yet. It’s not a shock when one doesn’t return from the field, but it doesn’t ever get easier. Iruka’s taught pre-genin for years, and each time he outlives a student, it breaks his heart. It was for that reason that Iruka had sworn off dating in the first place; he can barely handle mourning for his students, he didn’t ever want to find out if he could survive mourning a lover.

And yet.

It’s the break of dawn on Sunday, then Monday, then two weeks, three, two months. He might not be dead, but three separate rescue teams have gone out and returned without any sign of him. He might be captured and hidden away, or he might be dead and buried where he’ll never be found. Iruka isn’t supposed to know where Genma had been headed, but he knows anyway. Maybe Genma was swept out to sea and is resting at the bottom of the ocean. Perhaps he got sick, stopped at a safe house to recover, and never woke up. 

At this point, likely, they’ll never know what happened. 

So Iruka sits in the kitchen. The sun slowly peers out over the horizon and a mug of tea that Iruka can’t stand the taste of cools between his cupped palms. His eyes are dry, but his lips are salty, and he can’t remember the last time he slept. He can’t remember a time where he wasn’t just sitting, waiting. 

It’s cold. Over the morning hours, the rain turns to sleet turns to snow. If he looked down into his cup, Iruka wouldn’t be surprised if his tea had iced over. 

He doesn’t know if he can survive this. Somehow he survived his parents, and he survived all the anxiety that comes with caring for Naruto, and he survives his students,  _ his children,  _ growing up under his care and being buried before him. He’s survived wars and losing friends, and the self-doubt that comes along with the fact that through everything, he has lived.  _ He has lived.  _ But this...

A day before Genma had left, they had lunch at a sushi place when Genma had suddenly reached across the table and grabbed Iruka’s hand. “There’s the village, and there’s you. That’s why I keep doing this.”

“What are you talking about?” Iruka had asked, even as he shoved a piece of nigiri into his mouth.

“When I come home, let’s get married.”

And Iruka had choked so violently he was afraid someone would have to give him the Heimlich. 

In the end, he’d dodged the question. He wasn’t sure it was a real proposal, considering how morose Genma had seemed, and when he’d turned the conversation away from the idea, Genma had followed easily. They’d ended lunch laughing over some stupid thing, and Genma hasn’t returned. 

He should have said yes.  _ A thousand times, yes, of course, I would love to marry you.  _ Now, it’s too late. 

The security wards on the apartment shudder and open under an influx of familiar chakra, and the front door opens. Mechanically, Iruka turns his head to watch. He expects to see Gai, or Raido, come to check on him. He wouldn’t be surprised to see Kakashi, or even Shino, since he’s taken on an assistant teaching position at the academy and sometimes stops by for advice. There are a lot of people who have access to this apartment.

It’s been three months. He doesn’t expect to see Genma.

And yet.

There’s a bandana that Iruka hasn’t seen before tied over Genma’s hair, in place of his hitai-ate, which seems to be missing. His eyes are dark-rimmed with deep bruises— lack of sleep or inflicted injury, Iruka can’t begin to guess. Gaunt, stubbled cheeks, skin nearly grey from malnourishment? Lack of sunlight? The tactical vest he’s wearing belongs to another village’s shinobi ranks, his uniform pants are bloody and torn, and his shirt and shoes are civilian. A ration bar wrapper is poking haphazardly out of his pocket. His signature senbon is absent, as well as his pack. He might not have any weapons on him at all. He looks almost like a zombie.

He looks like the best thing Iruka’s ever seen.

“Hey,” Genma says, and his voice sounds like stones grinding together.

All Iruka can do is look at him.

“I’m home.” And through everything, his smile is just as Iruka remembers it.

Everything in Iruka blooms open. His eyes widen, and his mouth drops, and his arms reach up and out, desperate to be filled. He doesn’t stand up, can’t, and Genma crosses the room and falls to his knees at Iruka’s feet. He presses his face against the top of Iruka’s thighs, breathes in deep, shudders on the exhale, and they both sit there and cry.

Iruka pushes the bandana off Genma’s head and twines his fingers into fine, greasy brown hair. Genma wraps a wide hand around Iruka’s calf and squeezes, and they stay together like that for a long time. 

When the silence breaks, it’s just so that Iruka can say, “I want to marry you.”

Genma, easygoing, playful, forgiving— Genma laughs. He lifts his head and pushes himself between Iruka’s legs, then presses his face into Iruka’s stomach. Muffled by Iruka’s body, he says, “Today. We’ll ask for an audience with the Hokage. But first,” he leans up and kisses Iruka, then somehow finds the strength to stand. “A shower. And actually, you know what I could kill for right now? Some tea.”

The mug is taken from the table, and Genma dumps its contents in the sink. Then he goes about his tea-making ritual, and Iruka closes his eyes, drinks in the sounds of Genma, alive, in the kitchen. 

When Iruka opens his eyes, the kitchen is bathed in sunlight.

**Author's Note:**

> This fills the "making hot tea" square on my bingo board, completing the R column!


End file.
